


Right Now I Need A Miracle

by jackson1523



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, bitty comes out and it goes bad, but its just him imagining it, but yeah this does get kind of dark? idk but just b careful friends, same with literally every other bad thing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-01
Updated: 2016-11-01
Packaged: 2018-08-28 09:08:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8439748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jackson1523/pseuds/jackson1523
Summary: Bitty has a bad night.





	

**Author's Note:**

> ok so title is from Don't Let Me Down by The Chainsmokers because i couldnt think of any other lyrics lol  
> also idk what this is but yeah enjoy!  
> at the end of the fic is a description of the things bitty thinks about, so if you're unsure of if you should read it, i would suggest checking that

Bitty’s not exactly sure what triggered it.

Usually he could pinpoint an exact time he started feeling upset; a negative comment on one of his vlogs, some homophobic dickwad on TV spewing bullshit, or maybe he just watched a sad movie, and he’s just more emotionally invested than anyone else. But today, he couldn’t put a pin in it.

All he knows is that it’s now 8:45 PM on a Wednesday, the Falconers game is on mute, and Bitty is curled up alone on Jack’s couch, under at least three blankets, his “In My Feelings” playlist blaring through his headphones. He’s desperately trying to get rid of the negative thoughts; tries changing the playlist to something more upbeat, tries watching videos of dogs who just don’t understand how the human world works. But eventually, no matter how valiant of an effort Bitty puts into it, he always ends up migrating back to his sad playlist, and staring vacantly at the ground.

It’s like his mind wants to be sad. It gets like this sometimes; depressive episodes where Bitty just…cannot feel happy. No matter what he does. It’s like the sadness in his brain broke through the window, tied up the happiness, forced it into a corner, and just took over his brain for the night. His mind just kept visualizing the worst scenarios imaginable.

_Bitty was watching the game with high intensity. The crowd was electric; the Falconers were on the power play, with two minutes left in the third and a pulled goalie. He eagerly scanned the ice, looking for Jack. He should be on any minute now. Finally, Jack jumped the boards, and he was in play. He skated over the blue line, and headed towards the Schooners’ goalie. He parked himself just near the post, and waited. Tater, at the point, got the puck, and Jack skated towards the outside of the rink, opening himself up for the puck. Tater passed the puck to him, and…_

_Next thing Bitty knew, the Schooners’ defenseman checked Jack into the boards. Hard. Jack crumpled to the ice, and wasn’t getting up. The crowd went from the initial outrage from the hit to deathly silent; Bitty had genuinely never heard an arena go that quiet in his entire life, even when he skated competitively. The trainers quickly ran out onto the ice, and Jack. Wasn’t. Moving. By the way the trainers were responding, it looked like Jack wasn’t responding at all, and soon, a stretcher was being carted onto the ice. They carefully lifted Jack’s motionless body onto it, and Bitty could see his face; he looked like he was sleeping. The trainers strapped Jack in, and Bitty was praying, hoping for Jack to at least move his hand, or acknowledge that he was okay. Anything._

_Instead, Bitty got nothing. No movement, just Jack’s pale face against the stark white of the stretcher. As soon as Jack disappeared into the tunnel, the refs, who seemed just as horrified, motioned for the Schooners’ defenseman who hit Jack (Ironically, number 15) to leave the ice. The man, Rodionovich, slowly left through his team’s tunnel. Just then, someone from the Falconers’ team came up to Bitty’s row, and gestured for him to leave. Bitty quickly stood up, and followed him through the corridors, until he was brought down to the trainers’ office._

_“Eric, I am so sorry, but, they think…it’s not looking good.”_

_“No.” Bitty’s hands flew up to his mouth. “No.”_

_“He’s being brought to the hospital as we speak. We can keep you updated.”_

_As soon as Bitty tried to turn to head over to hospital, the trainers’ phone rang. He answered it, his face grim, before it crumpled. Bitty didn’t need words to figure out what he was just told._

Switch.

_Bitty walked in through the front door, groceries in hand, only to find Jack sitting at the table._

_“Hi, honey! I got those organic strawberries you liked from that farmer’s market down the street, and―”_

_“Bitty, I need to talk to you.”_

_“Okay…” Bitty said slowly, placing the plastic bags on the counter. He walked over to sit across from Jack, who looked extremely uncomfortable._

_“I don’t…I don’t feel like…I don’t think you and I are…a good idea anymore.”_

_“Wh-What?”_

_“I just…hockey has to come first. It just does. I’ve worked for my entire life to get to this point, and I’m afraid that you and I would just…not ruin it, exactly, but I’m sorry. Hockey has to come first.”_

_Bitty didn’t say anything for a good while. He stared blankly down at Jack’s folded hands on the table top, and tried to breathe slowly and evenly. “Right.”_

_“I’m sorry, Bitty―”_

_“Don’t call me that. You don’t get to call me that anymore, Jack.”_

_Jack cleared his throat. “Right. So, Eric, uh, you can just…pack up your stuff, and I can drive you back to Samwell.”_

_Bitty wanted to fight back. He wanted to scream and yell and cry and slap Jack across the face but also kiss him senseless at the same time. Instead, he just did what he always did; swallowed his tears, and turned into Jack’s room. He pulled his shorts out of the drawer that he had been using as his own unofficial closet. He shoved them all into his backpack, and walked out into the living room, only to see Jack talking and laughing on the phone, like he hadn’t just ripped Bitty’s heart out of his chest, stomped all over it, torched it, and then shoved back down his throat._

_“Ready to go, Eric?”_

Switch.

_He’d just come out to his parents. He was sitting across the living room table from them, in the old, worn armchair that Coach would sit in and watch the Georgia football games in, a little Eric perched in his lap as he tried to explain football to a five-year-old. Coach and Mama looked blankly at him, until suddenly, his mother burst into tears._

_“Mama, please, you don’t need to cry.” Bitty was crying himself, and he stood up, his arms extended to console his mother._

_“Don’t fucking touch her,” Coach growled, standing up in all his glory, towering over Bitty. Bitty recoiled harshly. “You don’t get to come in here, parade your…your…your queerness all over us, and then pretend it’s all going to be okay.”_

_“Coach, I’m still your son, please don’t do this―”_

_“I don’t have a fucking son.”_

Switch.

_He’s standing up at an altar at a wedding. He’s Jack’s best man; he watches helplessly as Jack is walked down the aisle by his mother; they kiss each other on the cheeks, and Jack goes to stand at the altar with Bitty, Shitty, and Tater. Suddenly, the music starts up again; Kent Parson comes walking down the aisle in a stunning white tux, also escorted by his mother. Jack’s face completely lights up, and he’s beaming the whole time as Kent walks down towards him._

Switch.

For the rest of the night, similar visions flash their way through Bitty’s head. He knows they’re fake; he knows that they couldn’t possibly happen. His parents, though not outright supportive, have shown absolutely no signs of kicking him out of the family for being gay; Jack will not die from a check in a game; Jack has also made it clear that he’s not prioritizing hockey of Bitty. And yet, Bitty just…he’s not good enough. He’s trying so, so hard, and yet he just won’t be enough for Jack, and Jack will realize it and leave him in the dust, just like his parents will when he comes out. It starts spiraling, growing worse by the minute. The worst part of it is that Bitty knows it’s not true; he _knows_ that it’s all just in his head. But he can’t help but succumb to the voices in his head that he’s been desperately trying to put on mute.

Bitty’s not sure how much time passes before the front door is opening, but it’s long enough that his playlist has stopped, and the only sound he can hear is his own breathing. The door opens softly. He can hear Jack quietly shucking off his coat and those horrid, lovely yellow sneakers. He places his gear bag gently by the door, and Bitty can hear him head towards the bedroom. He must not have seen Bitty’s pathetic blanket form on the couch, which is just as well; Bitty doesn’t want to look at himself either. Slowly, Bitty takes his earbuds out and places his phone on the floor, before burrowing back down into the blankets.

He can faintly hear Jack calling for him, but Bitty can’t bring himself to answer. He wants to write it off as him not having energy, but he knows that a tiny part of him just wants Jack to come find him; to be so concerned that he has to go search for Bitty. It’s selfish and shitty, but honestly, Bitty doesn’t even care at this point. He’s tired, he’s sad, he’s pretty sure the Falconers lost too, but he doesn’t know, because he muted the TV to sulk. That’s so fucking selfish of him, how could he just neglect his boyfriend’s game to just sit there and stew over his stupid feelings? He’s so _selfish_ , and if his Mama saw him right now she’d be ashamed of his behavior―

That’s when the first sob comes out. He doesn’t mean to cry; he hadn’t even felt like crying the whole night. But that was the straw that broke the camel’s back, and once he starts he can’t stop. The tears just keep silently coming, and Bitty tucks his face into the blanket. He doesn’t hear Jack come out to the living room until he feels Jack’s hand gently pulling his blanket-clad hand from his face.

“Bits?”

Bitty turns a watery face up towards Jack, and he can see Jack’s face fall. He tries to school his face into something more pleasant, but he’s not quite sure if he succeeds.

“Hey honey. I’m fine, just some silly ol’ feelin’s, nothing to worry your hockey-playing heart over.”

“Your feelings aren’t silly, Bittle.” He moves his hand from Bitty’s wrist to card through his hair, and Bitty pushes up into the touch. “What the hell happened that had you crying?”

“It’s nothing, Jack, I―”

“Would you say that to me?”

“What?”

“If you walked in, and I was crying, would you let me just tell you that ‘it’s nothing’?”

“Of course not―”

“Then why are you doing it to yourself?”

“Because what I’m feeling is…it’s not…it’s not…”

“Why won’t you follow your own advice, Eric?”

“I…I just…” All he wants is to tell Jack, to get the validation he craves, but the South in him is telling him to shut up, and not place this burden on Jack, as it’s not his to bear.

“Bittle.” Jack cards his hand through Bitty’s hair one final time, before he moves it to caress the side of his neck. “You’re not a burden. Your feelings are so, so important.”

The words hit Bitty like a freight train. The tears start up again, and he launches himself forward. Jack manages to catch his body, and adjusts them so that Jack is sitting on the couch, and Bitty is curled up in his lap, sobbing into his neck, his hands gripping the front of Jack’s shirt like a lifeline. Jack wraps his arms around Bitty, one hand slowly rubbing up and down his spine while the other curls around his hip, anchoring him in place.

They stay like that for who knows how long, but Bitty’s tears just don’t stop coming. His chest is starting to hurt by the time he’s able to calm down enough to breathe normally. Jack hasn’t stopped rubbing his back, and he can feel, rather than hear, Jack murmuring into his temple.

Bitty’s voice is scratchy and uneven when he speaks. “It’s just…I don’t know what caused it, nothing really specific, but I just got sad, Jack, and I couldn’t help it, I just started thinking these _awful_ things, like I imagined you _dying_ ―” He had to stop, as another wave of fresh tears decided to make an unwelcome appearance. He felt Jack tighten the hand around his hip, and the other hand curl around his shoulder blades. “And then…and then you were telling me you were putting hockey first, and then you were marrying Kent, and I know they won’t happen Jack. Like, I know that logically, but we don’t know what’s to come! We don’t know how your team will react, or how the world will react, or how the league will react, and it’s just so much pressure because I don’t want to be the reason your career is ruined, just because I couldn’t handle hiding.” He so, so desperately wants to tack on ‘It’s so silly’ at the end, but he knows that’s not true.

He feels Jack press his lips to his temple again. “I just want you to know that I love you.” He pulls away, and lands a kiss lower, on Bitty’s cheekbone. “And that your feelings are so important.” He goes lower again, pressing another kiss on the corner of Bitty’s jaw. “And that I’m so glad you decided to tell me.” He lands a kiss on the apple of Bitty’s cheek.

Bitty sniffles once, before he adjusts his position so he’s straddling Jack’s lap, and he loops his arms around Jack’s neck. “Thank you,” he’s able to whisper out, before he closes his eyes and rests his forehead against Jack’s. They just breathe there for a few minutes, soaking in each other’s presence, before Jack’s hands pull Bitty closer, and Bitty presses a chaste kiss against Jack’s lips. He parts, and buries his face in Jack’s neck in a hug. He feels Jack hug him back, before he feels Jack slide his hands down his sides and hook under his ass.

Just as Bitty’s about to tell Jack that he’s really just not feeling sex right now (though if Jack asked again in the morning, Bitty won’t object), Jack stands up. The sudden change in position has Bitty scrabbling for purchase on Jack’s back, and he’s sure that his flailing has left him looking like a very disgruntled cat. Jack walks the two of them to the bedroom, and he sets Bitty down in front of the bathroom. They walk in together, and silently brush their teeth. Bitty turns to go to bed, and he feels Jack’s arms snake around his waist, and, to his endless annoyance, Jack hunching over to rest his head on top of Bitty’s. He lets out a laugh, and turns around in Jack’s arms to swat at his chest. Jack just smiles dopily down at him before swooping in to kiss him slowly, deeper than he did in the living room. Bitty wraps his arms around Jack’s neck before breaking the kiss, and grabbing Jack’s hand to bring him to their bed. Jack strips down to his boxers, and climbs under the covers before stretching luxuriously. Bitty chuckles at him before stripping as well, and climbing in, pillowing his head on Jack’s shoulder.

“I never actually saw, but how did your game go?”

“It went alright. We won by two.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful Jack! I’m so proud of you.” Bitty leans up to press a kiss to the junction of Jack’s neck and shoulder before moving down again to rearrange himself.

“Thanks.”

Bitty let out a loud, long yawn, before he lifted a leg to throw it over Jack’s hips. “’Night, Jack. I love you.” He presses a kiss to Jack’s shoulder.

“Goodnight, Bits. I love you too,” Jack replies, before Bitty feels him press a final kiss to the crown of his head.

This time, his mind lets him imagine the good in his life.

**Author's Note:**

> scenes bitty thinks about:  
> 1\. jack dying from a check in a game  
> 2\. jack breaking up with bitty because hes putting hockey first  
> 3\. bittys parents being really homophobic after he comes out  
> 4\. bitty watching jack get married to kent  
> if you liked this, follow me on tumblr! im at bittyspiesjacksthighs


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